Page 35 of Stealing Forever (Bridge Point Bears Baseball #1)

PRESENT DAY

“ Fuck , mia preferita, you feel amazing,” Sly grunted as he slammed into me, his beautiful Italian accent even thicker during sex. He reached his large hand up and kneaded my boob. “God, I’m so close. I don’t think I can hold it much longer. You…feel like paradiso.”

My legs wrapped tighter around his body and joined at the ankles as I attempted to shift the pressure to stimulate my clit. Not that I hadn’t already orgasmed. But twice never hurt.

Sly’s grunts and groans filled the air as he drilled into me, a thin layer of sweat coating his back like he’d been running a marathon. We’d only been at it for less than five minutes, but his chest heaved with exertion.

I did my part in letting out small moans at the right times, digging my nails into his back.

I was good at pretending to be super into it—I’d had enough practice at faking it over the years.

Thankfully, Sly couldn’t see me rolling my eyes and glancing at the diamond Rolex I hadn’t bothered taking off when we got naked.

It wasn’t his fault I was bored. My head wasn’t in it—I was tired and stressed, more in the mood to be alone than to be naked and sweaty, but I’d hoped a good romp in the sheets would take my mind off the world around me.

Two more grunts and a slam later, Sly’s rutting was over. His body fell to a heap on top of mine and I allowed him around sixty seconds of caressing before I gave him the boot. “Alright, Sly, off.”

His gaze slid to mine as I stared up at him. He smirked, dipping down to kiss the side of my mouth, his dick twitching inside of me before he slid out. He rolled off my body and dropped onto the bed.

“Sorprendente,” he muttered, his voice soft. Bastard had already tossed an arm over his eyes as if he was going to fall asleep immediately.

I reached over to pull a cigarette off the nightstand and lit it up. The cherry glowed red as it caught, and I tossed the lighter aside. Filling my lungs, I let my eyes close as I willed myself to relax.

Anxiety crept into my chest, sitting heavily. No sooner had I inhaled a second puff, Sly pulled it from between my lips and stuck it between his.

This was our ritual. We fucked, played pass the cig, and we passed out.

Well, correction, he passed out. Some nights I laid there for hours until I fell asleep. Other nights, I left and went home.

It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being with Sly, because I truly did. He was great. There was nothing I could pinpoint that made me dislike him, which was why I couldn’t figure out why my feelings for him weren’t stronger.

Being with him was easy and secure. At all times, I knew where I stood with him and after so many failed relationships, a man like Sly was exactly what I needed.

A great lover with a wicked tongue, easy on the eyes, and extremely compliant.

Whatever I wanted, I got—the man had never so much as thought the word no when it came to me.

It didn’t hurt that he also looked hot as hell in his black jeans and leather vest. Just seeing him on his motorcycle, his bronzed skin covered in tattoos, his dark hair always combed to perfection, and the way he could wear a pair of dark aviators, was enough to get me wet.

I never would have guessed I’d be into the whole motorcycle club thing, but here we were.

The best part—Sly never tried to lock me down.

He took me at face value and never forced me to commit to a label I wasn’t interested in.

I wasn’t his girlfriend; he wasn’t my boyfriend.

The simplicity of our arrangement was what kept me from going stir-crazy.

Finishing the cigarette, I watched Sly peel the condom from his limp dick, knot it, and toss it onto the nightstand next to its wrapper. My face contorted as I outwardly cringed, grossed out that he just tossed it haphazardly onto the same surface he puts things like his phone on.

And he made fun of me for taking a disinfectant wipe to everything the second I stepped foot into his room. I wasn’t a germaphobe, but bikers— men —could be absolutely fucking disgusting.

I kept my mouth shut and made a mental note to wipe it down at some point while settling into the softness of the cotton sheets. As my eyes shut, I felt his hand circle my middle, and he pulled me closer. There would be no falling asleep for me. His body heat was stifling.

His arm draped across my naked tits, while he gripped my waist and tucked me into his body. Little spoon . All I could think about was rolling out from under his grasp.

I hated cuddling.

After what felt like hours, the steady rhythm of his breathing told me he was finally asleep. Peeling his fingers from my areola, I scooted my body away and silently placed my feet on the cool hardwood below. I sat for a minute, listening to the low snores as they fell from his lips.

I really did like the man, but there was just something lacking that I couldn’t put my finger on. Sly was all golden retriever vibes. And there was nothing wrong with that. Wasn’t that what most women wanted? A loyal, loving man who spoiled them? I should want that too.

Maybe the problem was me.

Retrieving my thong, bra, and the men’s button down I had worn as a dress today, I quickly got dressed, leaving the shirt unbuttoned.

Grabbing another cigarette and my purse, I headed for the door.

As I slipped through the crack just wide enough for my body, I lit up another smoke.

The cherry was the only illumination in the dark hallway, and as the door clicked closed behind me, I leaned against it with my eyes shut, enjoying a drag.

“That shit will kill you, Rose.”

His voice made me jump, not realizing someone else was in the hallway with me. I turned my head to the right where his voice had come from, and watched him push off the wall and stalk toward my direction.

Stopping in front of me, he plucked the cigarette from between my fingers and carelessly tossed it to the floor, snuffing it out with the sole of his boot. “You need to fuckin’ quit.”

“And you need to quit stalking me, Cain,” I retorted, crossing my arms in front of my chest. His eyes trailed down my body, appreciating the swell of my tits, the curves of my wide hips, and the lack of thigh gap. All so different from the body of the girl he once knew.

The Rosie I had been…the Rosie I was…she wasn’t me. She was the shiny exterior I showed the world, but I was tired of being her.

While some old habits die hard (and are super challenging to let go of), I was able to control my body.

Life had been crazy over the last two years and I’d decided I needed a change.

Oh, who was I kidding? My life has always been crazy, and I was constantly making changes to myself. But it was within the last couple of years, while watching two of my best friends find their happiness, I realized I wasn’t happy.

Growing up, my biggest hardship was low self-esteem and an unhealthy relationship with binge eating.

Eventually, I fell into the other extreme and became good friends with a little plague called the starvation diet.

I trained my body to survive on water-based foods and extremely lean proteins (every once in a while) while I also obsessively killed myself in the gym.

For years I was a slender little minx, but it cost me my happiness.

I conformed to what I thought I needed to look like for society—what I needed to look like to fit into my “bad girl reputation” I had so eloquently placed upon myself. Slender. Dark hair. Big tits. Tattoos.

For what?

That was the million dollar question, and let me just tell you, it wasn’t worth a goddamn penny.

Once I had my come to Jesus moment and realized I didn’t need to be anyone other than myself, I said goodbye to the salads I forced down my throat and reacquainted myself with carbs. And if people didn’t like it, they could promptly fuck off.

Then, I spent a small fortune at the salon to turn my jet-black hair back to my natural— or as close as I could get to it —brunette. I even treated myself to a few extra tattoos, because why the hell not?

Instead of a size four, I was now more of a comfortable eight/ten, and I loved myself more than ever.

So when Cain’s gaze finally reconnected with mine, I jutted my chin out with confidence and gave him my award-winning attitude. “Why the hell are you out here? Enjoying the audio-version of the porn you’ll never get to watch?”

His smirk made my stomach turn. The jury was still out on whether it was a good “butterflies” type or bad “want to upchuck all over him” type of turn.

Probably a little of both.

Cain, unfortunately, caused the butterflies in my stomach to flutter whenever I caught sight of him, which seemed to be more frequent lately.

He’d aged like a fine wine. Thirty-five years old and a fine specimen of a man.

He was covered head to toe in black and gray tattoos—at least I was sure he was.

I hadn’t ever seen him completely naked, but had seen him without his shirt many, many times.

He had that rugged appearance that made my toes curl.

His coffee brown hair was always messily pulled back into a bun at the crown of his head, and his facial hair was always scruffy, but in a way that worked for him.

He had the zero effort thing down and in his favor.

Add that to his blue jeans, t-shirt, and leather vest decked out with club insignia— damn , he was fine.

An ass, but pretty to look at.

“Hearing you fake it was the highlight of my night, Rose,” he told me, his voice thick with sarcasm.

I flipped him the bird before pushing off the door I still leaned against. Giving him my back, I walked down the pitch-black hallway.

Not many people were up in the bedrooms yet, it was hardly midnight, but Sly and I had snuck off earlier in the night.

The vibration from the bass of the speakers rattled the walls from the music playing in the bar on the floor below us.

“Stop calling me Rose,” I called over my shoulder.

Cain’s footsteps were heavy behind me as he followed. “Where are you hurrying off to?”

I took the opportunity of being cloaked in darkness to button my shirt. My feet were bare and I moved quietly, but he was hardly three steps behind me. When I made it to the back staircase, I stopped and turned to him, turning on the fake charm. “What do you want, Cainy-boo?”

I ran my finger down the soft leather of his vest and along the waistband of his jeans. My sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed, and he boxed me in, caging me as my back pressed against the cool wooden banister.

“You know, Rose , your attitude isn’t as off-putting as you think.” He traced his nose against my cheek, tipping his lips toward my ear. “I see you,” he whispered softly.

My body betrayed me, and a shiver ran over my skin. The cocky bastard knew it too, because he added, “I know this isn’t one-sided. You’re just fucking around with Sly and buying time until I finally claim you.”

“You can’t claim a woman who wants nothing to do with you, Cain.”

“Your body seems to disagree with that statement.”

“It’s cold in here, asshole. My goosebumps are for lack of warmth, not lack of dick. We both know I’m not lacking in the latter, so just go ahead and fuck off back to where you came from.”

He tipped his head back and released a husky laugh. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right, Rose?”

“To have fury toward you, Cain, would imply I care. Which I don’t. Truly.”

“Your words pain me, baby.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Cain. Although you seem to have a knack for making your words pretty damn loud.”

His features turned dark and his mood sobered. No longer smirking and laughing, I could see the fire behind Cain’s eyes as he searched my face, looking for a glimmer of sarcasm or playfulness to indicate I wasn’t being serious. But I was.

I forced myself to hold my own, to mask the feeling of inadequacy threatening to show on my face. As memories pushed their way to the forefront of my mind, I could feel the hurt surfacing.

No .

I looked away, but something must have trickled across my face, causing Cain to take a step back. “Rose, you know I didn’t mean what I fucking said. I had to say it to save face in front of Brent.”

Whipping my head back toward him, I snarled, “You knew how I felt about you, Cain. And you knew how he treated me. Yet you still sat there and called me— to my fac e—what was it again? Damaged goods, trailer trash? Wait… No… That wasn’t all you said.”

“You know I had to. If he knew I was after his girl, he would have murdered me. He would have murdered us .”

“Bullshit, Cain. Brent and I were so on-again off-again, he wouldn’t have cared either way.

When I walked away from him for good last year, he didn’t come running.

Plus, we never did anything. You and I were nothing but unexplored feelings and lustful looks across the room.

It’s never been about your actions. In this case, Cain, it was about your words.

How you treated me. I expected better from you. You were always the nice one.”

“He’s my fucking brother, Rose. What was I supposed to do?”

“It doesn’t matter what you should have done, because you did nothing. And now, I want nothing to do with you. I’ve let it go, Cain. Moved on. You should too.”

Without waiting for his reply, I ducked beneath the arm keeping me caged against the banister, and took the stairs down two at a time, not sparing him a backward glance as I pushed open the door to the main floor of my bar, Andromeda.